Days
by HAPPEHFUNTIEMS
Summary: Ruby has autism, which she finds has as many disadvantages as it has benefits. Gift for our trash queen xekstrin.


This is a pretty personal fic that I wrote as a gift for xekstrin - I wanted to write an autie!Ruby who was afflicted with things as close as possible to my own autism, and it seems a lot of people on Tumblr could relate. I hope you can too!

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**Days**

Ruby didn't like to announce to the world that she - leader of team RWBY, miracle worker who got into the esteemed Beacon two years early, who had come into contact with terrorists numerous times and survived - had autism. For her, she rarely found it was any point of pride. Even though she never voiced it, not even to her own sister, Ruby found herself worried that if people knew that she had autism they might treat her as less than she was. Like she was stupid, or broken. Maybe even useless. These thoughts, which only came around briefly, frightened her enough to play out every day in a long-running and very tiring game of pretend. Ruby had rehearsed enough lines to make an accurate script of her life, the classic example being after being asked if she'd 'had a good morning?' or 'how are you today?'. As soon as those words were directed towards her, she'd pause and think out her reply: 'I've had a great morning, thank you!' or 'I'm doing well, thanks! And you?'. Yet despite these rehearsals, despite her laying it out for herself with a perfect plan, her words came out breathless, jumbled - and then she'd stutter like a fool, causing her to panic and stutter more and then she'd start to try to fix it and then it only got worse from there and _oh god would you please shut up they're going to hate you now-_

All of her games of pretend slipped sometimes, mask falling to reveal a face full of fresh fear and endless anxiety. Even the best disguises fail every now and again, and Ruby did her best to try and cover herself when it did.

Luckily, she wasn't facing the world entirely alone. Whilst she hadn't found the courage to tell Weiss and Blake yet (she knew they wouldn't mind, but something about revealing it felt like she was making herself vulnerable. She was the leader, she had to be strong, right?), they had learnt quickly to adapt to Ruby's strange traits and requirements. Weiss, who turned out to be the unintentional master of the 'bad touch' by pressing too lightly onto Ruby's skin and clothes when she wanted her attention, soon realised she needed to be a little firmer to stop Ruby jerking away from her, shuddering all the while. Now, Weiss's touches were strong and firm and whilst Ruby didn't generally like being touched anyway, it felt a lot better than having what felt like a spider on her skin. Meanwhile, Blake soon stopped bringing anything that smelt strongly into their shared room, from fish sandwiches to other people, understanding that Ruby's nose was as powerful as any faunus' and didn't take kindly to strange and unfamiliar scents. Yang was already used to answering the phone and took to answering her scroll when the girl was too worked up, explaining patiently that Ruby was preoccupied as said girl listened in closely, whispering harshly when anything Yang said made her 'sound really dumb'.

In the end, even though two members of the team had no idea why they had to do the things they did, they did it anyway - Ruby was calmer, less frantic, and as Blake opted to take their food to the cafeteria and Weiss made sure to firmly press her hand onto Ruby's shoulder, they both silently decided that sometimes there really was no method to the madness.

For all of this, Ruby found herself eternally grateful. It made it so that in their shared room she no longer had to pretend to be somebody she wasn't; she could stop being Ruby Rose, leader of team RWBY and teenage prodigy to simply Ruby Rose, autistic teen. She could ignore her scroll as often as she liked, rock in a ball for as long as she wanted, talk to her friends without having to make eye contact and essentially live life without running through the gamut of social cues that everybody else seemed to understand and obey intuitively. She could be herself, in a place that didn't care.

Of course, Ruby had to admit her autism wasn't wholly terrible; it had a good side to it as well, and it was when this side shone that Ruby was grateful for her autism, too. Sometimes she could go toe-to-toe with Weiss when testing each other on their knowledge of Dust, or could theorise a new weapons system within minutes and then make her imaginary blueprint watertight in as many more. She could debate, in public, with professors on the pros and cons of different techniques regarding Dust infusion in weaponry, whether they hindered more than helped, and sometimes she even won.

Her obsessive tendencies led to Crescent Rose being one of the best maintained weapons on campus, her need for order - alphabetically, of course, one of the first orders she'd ever learnt - leading to her plans, notes, workshop space and her space in RWBY's room being organised and clear (even if Weiss could be heard mumbling something about 'organised chaos'). Unlike her peers, she rarely lost anything she hadn't placed herself, and was even able to locate WBY's lost items by noticing that they'd moved and where she'd automatically noticed them last.

For all the good, however, there were the bad days. Then there were the worse days. She'd constantly stutter and be made fun of, she'd bite her lips until they bled for hours and even saying 'hello' to someone could leave her legs shaking and making her need to sit down and recover. Noise from outside - from people shouting to distant winds and snores in their room - could suddenly make her stay awake for hours, and sometimes she'd miss her lectures and lie in bed all day and shake constantly, wishing hard she was _anywhere_ but where she was right now.

Those were the worst days. But on the days she was praised for her work, on the days she managed to answer her scroll on her own and get lots of work done, on the days she could hang out with her friends without an ounce of panic or fear in her heart…

Well. Those were the best days.


End file.
